Remasking
by Indigo Signora
Summary: The fourth sequel to Unmasking. Ten years later, there's a brief encounter that only serves to stir long-forgotten feelings.


**A/N:** Since I posted the other one, I might as well post this one too. This is the fourth alternate sequel to Unmasking, and it takes place ten years after the events of the original story. Again, I haven't really edited the original, so forgive my errors. This one was written a touch more recenlyt, having been originally published on LiveJournal in April of last year. Enjoy~

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It would have been just as easy for me to continue on my way and pretend that I had never even glanced in that direction. My feet would have carried me back home to a moderately furnished bungalow located strategically on the fringes of the inner city—close enough to work and school to be convenient for me and the family, but far enough to not be in the roughest parts of town. I would have flung my coat onto the stool by the door, kissed my daughter's cheek in greeting as she ran up to welcome me home, and embraced my husband when he bid me hello with a small smile. Maybe he would have already made supper—a nice change, but it would be altogether the same scenario as it was every day when I returned home from work.

Maybe it was the self-hating part of me that slowed my pace as I passed by the outdoor cafe. I paused, observing the scene. The sun was struggling though the smog cover, but a few rays had leaked out and washed the city in a somewhat more hopeful light than usual. The cafe, falling into mild disrepair as did everything in that part of the city these days, even looked less decrepit than usual in the unusual sunlight. Patched parasols that on an average day served no real purpose hung still in the dry, windless air and shaded metal tables that someone had tried to pretty up with now-flaked white paint.

The cafe patrons narrowed their eyes to the sun's feeble attempts at illumination as they worked through their meals. The food, once known for its high-class price and middle-class taste, had fallen to the level of greasy spoon fare. I remembered having eaten there, years ago...ten years. Hard to believe, when I stopped to think about it.

A slender woman, mid-twenties maybe, was slowly pushing a wilted lettuce leaf around her plate. Her back was to me, but the fall of her dirty blond hair indicated that her eyes were facing the table in a morose fashion. Her companion, a not-quite-middle-aged man with longish black hair pulled into a tight ponytail, had finished his meal and was reclined, observing the woman with mild distaste. I watched the couple for a moment, then the woman stood up and promptly strode away. The man gave a small sigh and signalled for a waiter.

_Keep moving_, the sensible part of my mind urged. _Start walking, go home, get out of here. Now._ But of course I couldn't just do that. No, that would've been too simple. Instead, I cautiously made my way over to the now-vacant seat at the man's table.

He looked up at me as I set my hands on the back of the empty chair.

"Hey," I began lamely. I gave him a weak smile. "It's...been a while."

He stared at me blankly for a moment before his face broke into a wide grin. "_Bella._ Have a seat." He gestured to the chair over which I was leaning. I obliged and sat myself down, eyeing the abandoned salad that had not yet been collected by a waiter.

"Date didn't go so well?" I asked, then felt stupid. Such awkward, pointless small talk after a decade had passed. But isn't that always the case?

Pavi laughed lightly and gave a quick glance in the direction the woman had left. "_Si_, _Bella_, very astute. She is-a not too pleased." His gaze returned to my face. "So, how have you been? It has indeed-a been a while."

I noticed his accent had become less pronounced. "I've been...good. Got married." I smiled and flashed my left hand at him, showing off the ring. "Had a kid, too. A girl. She's eight. What about you? How's life in the fast lane?" That was a joke. Ever since GeneCo went under five years ago, the Largo siblings had been reduced to nothing more than peons like the rest of us...albeit upper-middle class peons.

He gave a demure chuckle in response. His fingers absently traced the scars lining his face. Oh, that had been an unnecessarily huge news item at the time. Seven years ago, Pavi had chosen to permanently affix his original face to his flesh. For the most part the surgery had been successful—unless you looked closely at the edges of his face, you wouldn't know that the skin had once been removed. Only a whitish ridge remained as evidence of the procedure.

"Life has-a been more of a vacation, _Bella_. Not-a much for me to do. Without GeneCo..." He shook his head, and I knew what he meant.

Without GeneCo, our whole city had been suffering worse than usual. The people were fine—the organ failure had been an epidemic, but every epidemic meets its end. For years the main use of organ transplants had been purely cosmetic. While GeneCo disappearing did wonders for the city's litter problem—namely, the dead bodies scattered about the alleyways—it took a heavy toll on the economy. GENterns, scientists, surGENs—they were all out of a job, and had to take on new, less glamourous careers in newly built hospitals. Even the Genecops were reduced to ordinary police officers. The repo men had vanished along with the company, and the grave robbers could only sell Z to the addicts—there were few who actually needed it anymore. The only thing keeping Sanitarium Island afloat were the giant processing mills found on the north end of the island. They produced various things—energy, chemicals, medications—and they were our only source of income.

"Without GeneCo, I think our entire city is a bit lost." I smiled humourlessly. "How have Luigi and Amber been?"

"Carmella? She moved-a to the mainland to model. As for my _fratello_...I have-a not seen him in weeks. I worry that-a he may have also gone to the mainland...and-a gotten in trouble." He shrugged. "Such is-a my _fratello_, _si_?"

"True." Silence fell, and I didn't know what to say. We had exhausted the usual small talk, and what more did we have to say? We had left on bad terms, went our separate ways, and didn't speak for ten years. It was too late for repairs, too late for a friendship. So why did I even stop to say hi? Why did I want to even remind myself of that period of my life that I so desperately wanted to forget?

Maybe he saw the look in my eyes, but he reached out a hand and placed it over mine. His eyes grew serious. "_Bella_...I know-a not why you would-a choose to talk to me, not after what-a happened." He paused, gauging my reaction. I didn't react, but he had hit the nail right on the head, and he knew it. "I do not ask forgiveness. But I wish-a for you to know that I never wanted-a you to be hurt."

My mouth opened; closed; opened again. "Is that an apology?"

His hand squeezed mine gently. "_Si_, _Bella_. Not-a easy for me to do. But I am happy for you. You have a man, a child. Me, I have-a nothing. You were able to change. I was-a not. I am glad you are-a happy."

I closed my eyes. "I am happy. But sometimes I wish..."

Pavi cut me off with a shush, and I opened my eyes. "Do not-a continue. And do not-a wish. You have-a done what you should have-a done. And you are happy. You said-a you were happy. Do not-a think of regret."

"Pavi, I'm...I'm so..." My voice trailed into nothing, and I reworded my response. "Pavi...I wish you could have been happy."

He laughed again, lightly, and without much humour. "_Bella_...this is as happy as I will ever be. It is-a my fate, _si_? The people like-a myself, they live like-a myself. I have-a dug my grave, as they say, and I must-a lay in it."

"So long as you have a pretty girl to lay with, right?" My weak giggle was a tad too watery. I struggled to hold onto my composure.

He only smiled. "_Si_. I suppose."

The silence returned. His hand slid from mine and began tracing the scars once more; scars of years past, of memories that wouldn't quite heal all the way. Who, after all, had convinced him to start wearing his old face again? Ten years...hard to believe, indeed.

I slipped a subtle glance at my watch. My husband would be wondering where I was. "Pavi, I ought to be going. It's been..." My voice decided to quit on me just then. I feared that if I went on, the rest of my sentence might come out in great, gasping sobs.

"Nice," he finished for me. After throwing a few coins on the table, he stood and offered me a hand. I got to my feet, but he didn't let go. "It's been-a nice."

I took a deep, steadying breath and met his gaze. "Pavi, do you ever wish it would have been different?" I braced myself for a response that either way, I didn't want to hear.

"_Bella_..." He pulled me into an embrace. I could hear and feel his warm breath on my neck. "_Bella, Bella, Bella..._" he mumbled. Withdrawing, he ran the backs of his fingers down my face. "Be happy."

I tried to answer, but no sound came out. Somehow, he understood. With a nod, he stepped back, turned around, and started off on his way.

I attempted again to summon up a sentence, a word, a stammered sound—anything. But nothing happened. Everything that needed to be said had already been said. No more, no less.

I stood foolishly on the sidewalk till he disappeared from my view. Only then did my brain send signals to my legs to keep walking. Heading home, my mind whirled a mile a minute. None of it made sense. The past, the present—what did everyone think? How did everyone feel? What happened? Why did I hate him for so long?

Before I knew it, the tears started burning. I ran into a nearby alley and hid beside a dumpster. Once sheltered from curious eyes, the crying began, the painful type that feels as if the sobs don't want to come and are forcefully resisting escape. Hot tears poured down my cheeks, and I didn't bother to wipe them away. I didn't get it. I didn't understand. Everything felt wrong, wrong, wrong. Everything felt like a lie. And yet, a part of me knew that it meant nothing. I would most likely never stumble across Pavi again. So why did I feel so miserable?

After some amount of time—five minutes? half an hour?—I continued home. I wiped my eyes furiously, hoping the redness would disappear before I crossed my threshold.

What did it mean? Was my whole life a lie? Did I still love him? Had I ever loved him? Had he ever loved me? It was all a muddled jumble of confusion in my tired mind. But it didn't matter. None of it mattered.

Too soon, I reached my walkway and trudged up to the door.

I entered my house. I flung my coat on the stool by the door. My daughter ran up and gave me as bone-crushing a hug as an eight year old can give. My husband strolled into the entryway and smiled. I let go of my daughter and gave him my best forced smile, followed by a chaste kiss. Long day at work, honey? Sure, sweetie. I'm just a little tired. Sorry for being late.

As a family, we entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table. As a family, we started our supper which my husband had so lovingly prepared. As a family, we chatted about each of our days.

As an individual, I masked a part of myself that I didn't want to remember, that I so desperately wanted to forget.

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**A/N:** This story is kind of difficult to reread, considering how much of it unpleasantly reflects aspects of my own life that I didn't even know I was writing about. Somehow the story has mirrored some of my own conflict unintentionally. Oh well...that part of my life is over now, so it's all good. Reviews are love. Thanks for reading!


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